


Fire and Water

by loverofthelight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Music, Romance, Season 7 rewrite, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Soulmates, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverofthelight/pseuds/loverofthelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is working alone. Sam has returned to Stanford to finish his studies and Dean has no idea where Castiel has disappeared to. He wanders from town to town, job to job and bar to bar, never thinking ahead of the next hunt. That is until he hears the velvet voice of a woman singing a song of his childhood, stirring feelings in him he didn't know he could still feel anymore...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Got a Heartache Comin' My Way

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, this is my first fic so any comments are sorely needed and most definitely welcome! It's a work in progress, with my university studies I hope to be posting about a chapter a week but I apologise if it sometimes take a little longer for me to update. This is going to be pretty smutty as it progresses, but it'll also focus on Dean finally letting his guard down with someone who isn't his family. Thanks for reading, let me know what you all think! :)

Dean Winchester was sat in a non-descript bar about a half hour outside of Sioux Falls, cradling a beer bottle in his hands with a blank look on his face. He’d just torched a nest of vampires in the warehouse district downtown, and he for one thought he thoroughly deserved the cold amber nectar trickling down his throat. There’d been more of them than he’d anticipated; if he was being honest with himself it was probably a miracle he wasn’t halfway to becoming one of the undead by now. Definitely should have been a two man job. Dean grimaced as he realised that was no longer an option. He understood that Sam had to make his own choices, but he never considered that they would lead him away from the hunter’s life. He never considered that they would lead Sammy away from Dean.  
  
  
Dean had nearly spat out his coffee when Sam had announced his intentions over breakfast on their way to a job in Wisconsin. It took him a few seconds to form an answer.  
“You want to do what now, Sammy?” Dean said, wiping the coffee drool from his tie and looking anywhere but at his brother’s stupid moosey face.  
“I’m going back to college, Dean. I called my old professor and he’s swung it for me to pick up where I left off. I get a scholarship and everything, just like before,” Sam said. He had a steely look of determination on his face; he was expecting a fight from Dean over this.  
  
  
Dean stared at his brother for what, to Sam at least, seemed like a lifetime. His green eyes probing Sam’s face looking for the reason behind his decision or a crack in his resolve. Of course he didn’t want Sammy to go back to Stanford. He didn’t care that it was selfish to want Sammy to stay with him. He was the only family he had left and he sure as hell didn’t want to have him across the other side of the country. Yet he knew how much it had taken Sam to leave college in the first place, with a worried and petulant Dean turning up on his doorstep in the middle of the night to tell him about their Dad going missing. He knew that Sam had wanted out of the hunter’s lifestyle since he was a kid, and it was Dean’s fault he’d been dragged back into it. He’d be damned if he tried to force Sam to stay in it when he so obviously wanted out.  
  
  
“You’re sure that’s what you want?” Dean asked him quietly, never taking his eyes off Sam’s, which were now wide open with shock.  
“I...erm...yeah Dean, it’s what I want,” Sam admitted. “Since I got my soul back, since I learned how to want things again...this is all I’ve thought about.” His look was apologetic now, the determination gone when he realised Dean wasn’t going to ask him to stay.  
“Well you better have a bed for me then Sammy, I don’t do sleeping on the floor these days. Too old for that,” Dean joked, his eyes crinkling up at the corners and hiding the deep sadness he felt at the prospect of being alone again. Being without his brother again.  
  
  
So Dean had put a brave face on it, clapping a hand on his much bigger little brother’s shoulder before pulling him in for a hug. Waved him off with promises of phone calls and visits and ‘call me if you need anything’ and watched his car disappear into the distance. Truth be told, he felt almost naked without Sam’s long legs filling up the passenger side of the Impala as he drove in the opposite direction to another case in another small time town.  
  
  
That had been almost three months ago and Dean had barely let himself think about Sam since. He just looked for jobs and worked jobs and drank in an endless cycle, replying to Sam’s numerous texts and voicemails when he had enough alcohol in his system to even slightly convince Sam that he was okay. Part of him was enjoying the solitude and only having to look out for himself during a job; he’d have to be an idiot not to acknowledge that his need to ensure Sammy’s safety dimmed his effectiveness on a hunt somewhat. The larger part of him, however, was desperately and embarrassingly lonely. He’d bedded his fair share of women in the three months Sam had been back at college, but a stranger’s alien warmth in a strange motel bed was only comforting for about half an hour before Dean was itching to be rid of them. He needed companionship, not a hook up. He knew he was damaged goods though, too much crazy in his head to be any good to anybody in the long run, so he mostly kept himself to himself apart from the occasional drunken conquest in a bar.  
  
  
Talking of drunk, Dean had finished his beer without realising. He signalled to the bartender for another one and took a quick look around the bar. There was the usual clientele of a place like this, drunken locals and a few community college kids, the occasional couple and a few solitary men staring daggers into their beers. Dean cringed inwardly as he realised he was probably classed as one of the latter. His beer arrived and he turned in his seat to face away from the bar. He hadn’t noticed on his first scan of the room but there was a girl in the far corner, standing on a make shift stage with a guitar and a microphone. She’d been playing the whole time Dean had been in the bar, but he’d assumed it was just a CD playing through the sound system.  
  
  
Dean found himself leaning in her direction, still not really listening to what she was playing. Her hair was a mess of waves that fell down to the middle of her chest, a rich chestnut brown that shone with copper streaks in the harsh lighting she was playing under. She paused her fingers plucking at the strings to tuck a stray strand of it behind her ear and then went back to playing seamlessly, as if it was second nature to her. She had big, expressive eyes that closed and half closed and then opened again throughout the song as she felt the music she was playing. Dean noticed she was short; she was almost tiptoeing to reach her rose coloured lips to the microphone. She was swaying her hourglass figure to the slow tempo of the song and her curves seemed to be threatening to spill out of her tight jeans and even tighter plaid shirt. It didn’t look bad though. In fact, Dean found himself wondering what she would look like spilling out of those clothes and into his bed...  
  
  
He stopped that train of thought dead in its tracks and took a long swig of his beer. He didn’t need another awkward morning of small talk before he made his excuses to get her to leave so he could shower and leave himself. He was planning to get out of Sioux Falls early tomorrow morning anyway; memories of Bobby were still a little too raw to stick around. Anyway, he could still enjoy her music even if he couldn’t enjoy the delightful woman playing it.  
  
  
She finished a song and smiled gratefully at the small round of applause that came from the people who were actually paying attention. Her smile pulled at something in Dean’s stomach and he had to order another beer before he could think too much about what the hell that meant. She herself took a swig of the beer she had perched on a bar stool behind her and stepped back up to the microphone.  
  
  
“Thanks for listening, you guys have been awesome. This is gonna be my last song tonight, and it’s one some of you might know. Thanks again,” she husked in a low voice, like velvet lined with cigarette smoke. Dean swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He waited expectantly, eagerly, for her to start singing again. She played a few chords, deep bass notes resonating in Dean’s ears in a way that was somehow familiar...he recognised this song. But where from?  
  
  
“Every single day, I got a heartache comin’ my way,” the mysterious girl sang, her husky voice sending a not entirely unpleasant shiver down Dean’s spine that ran straight down to somewhere he was not expecting. He tried to shake himself out of it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of those perfect lips wrapping themselves around the head of the microphone.  
  
  
“Fire and water must have made you their daughter, you got what it takes to make a poor man’s heart break,” she sang, throwing her head back as her voice got louder and moving her hips almost imperceptibly behind her guitar.  
  
  
Dean’s impending erection was momentarily stilled as he realised where he knew this song from. It was ‘Fire and Water’ by Free. He was thrown back to being a little kid, sitting in the backseat of the Impala when his legs weren’t even long enough to touch the floor properly. Sammy was next to him, gurgling nonsense to himself and laughing at Dean pulling faces behind his Dad’s back. John Winchester had sighed affectionately at his two boys, watching them in the rear view mirror as he cranked up the radio a little bit louder. Fire and water must have made you their daughter...  
  
  
Dean shook himself back to the here and now and realised the song had ended. He clapped, open mouthed and staring like an idiot. He watched, immobilised, as she nodded her thanks to her small crowd and packed up her guitar. Swigging the last dregs of her beer, she waved to the bartender and walked out of the door into the chill of the South Dakota night. He swung back to face the bar, giving himself a stern internal talking to. She’s just a girl in a bar, dammit. A girl with a voice like the first cigarette after damn good sex, but still just a girl in a bar.  
  
  
The bartender managed to get Dean’s attention long enough to enquire if he wanted another drink, but Dean declined. All of a sudden he was talking and he wasn’t aware of asking his brain to let him.  
  
  
“Hey dude, that girl who was singing? When’s she gonna be back again?” Dean asked, trying to appear nonchalant and failing miserably.  
“She’s playing again tomorrow night I think, before she moves on to play in another town. Tends to kick off around nine,” the bartender replied, smiling at Dean before moving off to serve another customer.  
  
  
Back at his bleak motel room and reclining fully clothed on the synthetic scratchy double bed spread, Dean was trying and failing to get his mind to think about anything at all that wasn’t the way the girl’s lips had caressed the microphone like a lover. Tried to think about anything at all that wasn’t the way her hands had moved so deftly and confidently, yet so softly over the solid wood of her fret board. Before he knew what he was doing he was imagining how those hands would feel gliding just as expertly over the taut skin of his back, his jaw, his chest. How those lips would feel caressing his, what his name would sound like rolling off her tongue in a quiet moan of pleasure...  
  
  
He’d unbuckled his belt and popped open the button on his jeans without even registering the sizable hard-on already waiting for him. As he took the smooth, hot skin into his hand and started to move it slowly up and down, wishing it was her hands instead, he made himself swear to go back to the bar tomorrow night and talk to her. Fuck it, he thought, what’s another hook up? He sure as hell needed to get this out of system before it got any worse.  
  
  
His mind flashed with images of his mysterious girl in various different positions underneath him, head thrown back in pleasure with his name on her lips in a constant chant that almost became a song. It was too much for Dean and he came hard, a small ‘Fuck, ah’ falling out of his mouth as he did so. Exhausted, he cleaned himself up with his shirt and fell back on to the pillows, humming a few bars of that song as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Unexpected Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally works up the courage to talk to the mysterious singer, discovering some pretty surprising things along the way...

Dean spent most of the next day pacing around his motel room and checking the time. He awoke early, uncomfortable from falling asleep fully clothed in an awkward position.  
Standing in the shower feeling the warm water running over his stiff limbs was soothing, so he stood under the steady stream of water for longer than was strictly necessary. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just allowed the water to ease the knots in his muscles and relax his shoulders. He usually had Sam banging on the thin wood of the bathroom door telling him to hurry his ass up before all the hot water ran out, but today he could stay here for as long as he liked. It was relaxing, and a good way to kill time before he headed back to the bar tonight.

 

He’d managed to convince himself that his interest in the singing girl was purely musical; you just didn’t find many women these days listening to the likes of Free. He also tried to ignore the fact that he could have sworn her husky tones had provided the soundtrack to his murky and undefined dreams last night. Crushes he’d had, but dreaming about a girl when he’d never even spoken to her? This was the shit Dean Winchester never got himself into. 

 

He’d decided to stay in Sioux Falls another night anyway, the only case he could find was what looked like a vengeful spirit in the next town over so there was no harm in starting out tomorrow morning instead. He humoured himself with the reasoning that he’d have probably have gone back to the bar tonight anyway, regardless of whether or not the girl would be singing again. Dean was sure glad he didn’t have to convince anyone else of his reasoning; he was having a hard time believing it himself. 

 

Dean spent a restless few hours cruising the internet for possible cases and doing some research, went out to get a burger or two for lunch. Whatever spell this girl had cast on him, it definitely hadn’t decreased his seemingly insatiable appetite. Reluctantly, he returned one of Sam’s calls just for something to do. He answered on the first ring.

 

“Hey, Dean! How’s it going, man? Haven’t heard from you in a while!” Sam said, his attempt at a normal conversational tone thinly veiling the concern underneath. Dean went along with it; there was no way he was having the ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ conversation with his brother again.

 

“Hey, Sammy. It’s all good, I’m all good. Just been busy working a few jobs, you know how it can get out here. How’s being a nerd going for ya?” Dean replied, trying to turn the conversation away from him and onto anything else. 

 

“Jerk. Really well, actually. Though I feel a little too old to be here now. Is this how you feel all the time?,” Sam teased, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“Bitch. I hope you’re taking advantage of all those college girls, Sammy. They’re crazy at that age,” Dean joked. Humour was his best defence against the unspoken words hovering at both ends of the line. 

 

“Okay, we are definitely not going down that road! Look, I’ve got class in five minutes so I gotta shoot. Call again soon, alright?” Sam said. That worried tone was creeping back into his voice and Dean was glad he didn’t have to stick around to hear any more of it.  
“Sure thing. See ya later, Sammy.”

 

Dean ended the call. The niggling hole in his chest that he did his best to ignore was itching for attention, and Dean sighed as he reminded himself this was why he didn’t call Sam more. It made him realise just how much he missed having him around, even if he was a big annoying ball of little brother. The phone call had lasted minutes, hardly the lengthy chat Dean was envisaging to waste some time. He’d even thought about calling for Castiel, but he hadn’t answered his calling for months now. Plus he doubted Cas would be too pleased to find out he’d called down an Angel of the Lord to entertain him because he was bored and impatient. 

 

He wondered what Sam would have said if he’d mentioned the girl from the bar. Probably would have told him to man up and go and talk to her. After all, how many girls had Dean picked up in bars? What was so different this time? This was the problem, Dean concluded. He didn’t know what was different about this girl; he just knew something was.  
He wasn’t used to being stationary for this long; there was always some mess for him to clean up or a job for him to do. He felt restless, useless. He hated it. And, loathe as he was to admit it, it was all because of a damn girl in a stupid bar.

 

With the thought of her constant in the back of his mind, he watched a few episodes of Dr. Sexy on the motel room’s tiny TV. He found himself seeing her face on every dark haired nurse on the stupid show and was forced to turn it off. This lusting after girls thing was not his style, truth be told it was usually the other way around. Sitting on the edge of the bed and running his hands through his hair, Dean came to a decision. He was going to talk to the velvet-voiced girl tonight come hell or high water. He thought he might go crazy if he didn’t put this whole thing to bed and out of his mind.

 

In his eagerness and downright impatience, Dean ended up arriving at the bar at about 8.00pm. It was already busy, only a few seats left in the whole place. He chose a booth on the far side of the room, near but not right next to the stage on which his mystery woman would be singing in the not too distant future. He ordered a double scotch and soda from the pretty blonde waitress without even looking at her; if he was going to do this he was going to need some Dutch courage. 

 

He waited. He waited some more. He checked his watch and saw it was half past the hour. He scanned the large room, his eyes only looking for one thing. She didn’t seem to be here yet, and Dean wondered if the bartender was wrong and she wasn’t playing again tonight. As he let this thought torture him he downed his scotch and signalled to the waitress for another. He couldn’t understand why but he felt as if he’d been stood up. He’d built so much on the idea of seeing the girl again tonight that the idea of not seeing her was like a two-footed blow to the chest. He was so angry at himself for letting it get this bad; she didn’t even know he existed and here he was drinking himself senseless at the thought he’d let her get away. 

 

He was about to down his second scotch and get the hell out of there before he did anything else he’d grow to regret when a whirlwind of chestnut hair and guitar case came falling in through the door, bringing a gust of cold wind in with it.  
“Sorry I’m late, Robbie. Damn car wouldn’t start,” she called over her shoulder at the bartender as she headed towards the stage and towards Dean. Her presence had knocked him back down into his seat and knocked his common sense straight out of the park. He cradled what was left of his drink and tried not to stare at this tornado of a girl rushing around the stage like a mad woman.

 

He watched as she unpacked her guitar, marvelling at the look of concentration on her face as she tuned each string. Her head was cocked slightly to one side, trying to hear the quiet strings above the noise of the people in the bar. The look of concentration seemed to morph into one of frustration as she bit her lip and plucked the strings a tiny bit louder. Dean couldn’t look away from her face. Every tiny movement, every change of expression stirred something in him that he had no name for.  
In the end she gave up, deciding with a small shrug of her shoulders that this would have to do. She lifted the guitar strap over her head and turned away from the crowd to plug it in to the amplifier at the back of the stage. The strap had caught her shirt at the back, causing it to ride up and show a stretch of sun-kissed skin just above the waistband of her jeans. Dean’s mouth went dry as he imagined how soft it would feel underneath his fingers, underneath his lips. A black smudge caught his eye and distracted his thoughts away from anything too unsavoury. A tattoo sat in the small of her back, about the size of a drinks coaster. Tattoos are always hot. He started let his mind wonder about what other tattoos she might have when the air was knocked out of Dean’s chest; he’d seen that tattoo before.

 

He’d seen it before because it was a perfect match to the one that nestled on the left side of his chest, just above his heart and just below his collarbone. A flaring sun with a pentagram sitting through the middle of it. An anti-possession tattoo. She’s a fucking hunter?

 

His disbelief was put on the backburner for a minute as she stepped up to the microphone and brought him back to the present with a velvet-lined thump.  
“Hey, everybody. My name is Evie Stone, and I’m going to be singing a few songs for you this evenin’,” she said. 

 

Evie, Dean thought, suited her perfectly. Short and sweet and a little rough around the edges, just like her. With that she opened her perfect mouth and began singing, a slow lilting melody that Dean didn’t recognise. For the next half an hour, Dean forgot to think about the fact that this beautiful girl was a hunter. Hell, he forgot that he was a hunter. He forgot everything that wasn’t the way her voice settled deep in his bones and made him feel like she was singing just for him. The bar full of people melted away until Dean would have sworn blind that there was only Evie and him still left in there.

 

Evie had just finished thanking the crowd, as she had done the night before, and had started playing the opening bars of ‘Fire and Water’. Dean had worked his way through another drink during her set and was definitely starting to feel the effects; he couldn’t tell if the blurred glow around Evie on the stage was a result of the lighting or of his alcohol intake. Either way, he thought she looked beautiful. Angelic. Damn, if she walked over to Dean in that moment and told him she was God he’d probably have thrown himself at her feet and offered himself up to her there and then, no questions asked. 

 

His rambling inner monologue was punctuated by an annoying sound that seeped into his consciousness about half of the way through the song, the noise tainting the golden glow around his singing angel with a nasty black mark. He noticed Evie throw a disdainful look towards the bar and, suddenly alert, he followed it with his eyes. A middle aged guy, clearly the worse for wear considering the sizable amount of empty beer bottles on the bar in front of him, was calling out to Evie as she sang. This was the noise that Dean had barely registered; the jackass had been heckling Evie for most of the song.

 

“Hey darlin’, why don’t you bring that sweet ass over here and sing a little something in my ear?” he jeered, licking his lips and beckoning to her with a fat finger.

 

Dean saw red. He was halfway out of his seat to go and teach that guy some respect for women when he saw Evie put her guitar down and jump daintily off the stage, heading in the direction of the heckler. Dean’s heart sank. He didn’t want her anywhere near that sleaze; he was twice her size and pretty damn drunk. He was on his feet in a second, ready to rush over if he gave her the slightest hint of trouble.

 

Evie walked slowly over to the drunk, whose expression had changed from one of smug bravado to one of complete confusion. When she reached him, Evie reached out and took the near full bottle of beer out of the guy’s hand, never taking her eyes off his. She smiled sweetly at him and took a slow, deliberate pull on the drink, licking her lips dry when she’d finished. Dean’s heart had fallen somewhere south of his lower intestine by this point; was she seriously flirting with this asshole after what he’d said? He didn’t know what was worse, the fact that she was flirting with someone who had treated her so disrespectfully or just the fact that she was flirting with someone that wasn’t him.

 

Dean couldn’t take his eyes from the scene folding in front of him. He would take being tortured on the rack by Alistair fifty times over if it meant Evie getting the hell away from that guy. He watched as Evie started raising the beer in her hand, higher and higher. What the hell was she doing?

 

The drunk’s face watched the beer in her hand with mild amusement until he realised where it was headed. Evie hovered it over him for a few teasing seconds before slowly and purposefully pouring the contents of the bottle over his head, causing him to splutter and move backwards.

 

“Didn’t anybody ever teach you that it’s rude to interrupt people, you jackass? Next time you want a lady’s attention, you approach her humbly and respectfully and if she tells you to fuck off, you know what you gotta do? You gotta fuck off. Robbie, throw this asshole out would you?,” she asked the bartender, studiously ignoring the backlash of insults and expletives the drunk was throwing her way.  
The bartender kicked the guy out and Evie reached behind the bar to get herself another beer, thanking him as she did so. She walked back over to the microphone and apologised to the crowd before beginning to pack up her equipment.

 

Dean was speechless. Speechless and incredibly turned on. Speechless, incredibly turned on and incredibly angry at Evie. That could have gone so wrong, she could have gotten hurt and she just strolls up to the guy like he wasn’t twice the size of her. He tried to settle his anger when he realised she wasn’t his to protect. He settled it completely when he remembered that she was a hunter; there was no way she had that tattoo and didn’t know how to handle herself. The thought of her going up against demons and vamps and god knows what else made Dean uncomfortable. She seemed so delicate, like a flower. A flower with balls, Dean thought. She’s a complete badass! 

 

While he was lost in this train of thought he hadn’t noticed that Evie was already halfway to the exit. He downed the rest of his drink in panic and slammed down a few notes on the table, hoping that it was enough to leave a decent tip but rushing too much to bother actually counting it. He practically jogged to the door but made himself slow down when he got to the door; he was determined to appear calm and collected even if underneath he was anything but. 

 

He got outside and scanned the parking lot, feeling a familiar surge of warmth and relief at seeing Baby still parked up and beautiful on the far side of the lot. Evie had just put the last of her stuff into the trunk of her car and was getting into the driver’s seat as Dean started to walk towards her. Damn it, he’d left it too late. She’d got the key in the ignition before he could even get her attention. Dean had given up all hope and was about to head back into the bar to get extremely drunk when Evie’s car made a grinding, spluttering noise that made Dean wince and turn back around. She turned the key again and the car made the same noise; the engine just would not start. She slammed her hands against the steering wheel in frustration with an audible “Fuck!” that Dean could hear clearly from across the parking lot. A stupid grin fell across his face; she looked adorable when she was angry.

 

She got out of the car and slammed the door, walking around to the front to open the hood and see what the problem was. It was evident from the hopeless look on her face that she had absolutely no clue what she was looking for. Dean saw his opportunity, and with sweaty hands and no firm idea of what he was going to say, began the agonising journey from the entrance of the bar to Evie and her delinquent car. 

 

“Hey, you need some help with that?” Dean asked. He was about two metres away from her, and he was slightly worried that he might pass out or try to jump her bones if he got any closer. He didn’t want to do either of those things right now. 

 

Evie glanced up and studied him with clear, hazel eyes, starting at his head and travelling all the way down his body and right the way back up again. Dean felt a burning trail of embers following the path of her eyes on his body. He really wished she hadn’t had done that.

 

“Actually, yeah. I can usually deal with things like this but I know next to nothing about cars. This piece of crap refuses to start at least twice a week. Could you take a look, maybe?” she asked. She seemed reluctant to let him help her, but Dean could tell she knew she had precious little choice.

 

“Sure. So it does this often? How long has it been happening?” Dean enquired. He was pretty sure, from the sound the old car was making, it was a simple matter of adjusting the carburettor. He was desperate to keep her talking for as long as possible though, and started to take a more detailed look around under the hood of her car. It was in bad shape. Dean wasn’t sure if this thing had ever been properly serviced since it was built; how it hadn’t fallen to pieces long ago was beyond him. 

 

“About a month, maybe a little longer. I wouldn’t mind so much but my car kinda makes part of my meal ticket these days, so I need it to run right,” she almost growled the last part and Dean had to cough to cover the little sound of surprise and lust that escaped his throat. She looked at him quizzically and Dean averted his gaze back to the car’s internal working. Get it together, you idiot.

 

“I’m guessing your music is how you make your living then? You got far to drive for your next gig?” Dean asked, proud of himself for the casual way he’d tried to find out where she was headed to next. 

 

“Yeah, I sing and play and they give me free beer and a few dollars. Then I drive on to the next town and the next bar. Next stop, Pipestone. It’s just up the road a stretch, tiny little town really. What did you say your name was?” she demanded, her hazel eyes unblinking as she searched Dean’s for something that was eluding her. He felt like she could see all the way to the back of his brain.

 

“I didn’t, but it’s Dean. Dean Winchester. I think the problem is your carburettor. If you can wait 15 minutes I can fix it up for you now, I’ve got my tools in my trunk.”

 

“I’m Evie, though I guess you already knew that from the bar. Would you mind fixing it now? I gotta be up early to get to Pipestone by lunch.”

 

Dean smiled and nodded, pointed to his car and started walking over towards the Impala. He was incapable of forming a single coherent word. He was pretty sure that Pipestone was the town he’d seen the vengeful spirit crop up in when reading the paper looking for jobs. It was like fate, as lame as it sounded. He’d just reached his car when he heard Evie’s voice cut through the night air and into his chest like a blade, followed by a deep shout and a lot of feet scuffling the floor. He whipped around and to his utter fury saw the douchebag from the bar earlier trying to pin Evie up against her car. 

 

She was punching him as hard as she could until he grabbed both of her wrists with one meaty hand, a wordless scream of protest launching itself from Evie’s mouth as she stared at him in anger. Dean wasn’t even aware of himself running across the parking lot, but before he knew it the asshole was throwing a punch at him that he caught in his fist, using the force to twist the guy back on himself. Dean slammed his head down on the trunk of the car, pinning his huge arm behind his back.

 

“You value your life in any kind of way buddy, I suggest you get the fuck away from this lady and the hell away from this bar. Don’t come back, ever. If you do, I’ll know, and I’ll be back for you. Do you understand me?” Dean growled in the guy’s ear. “I said, do you fucking understand me?”.

 

“Yes, yes I understand. Let go of me, please!” the guy whimpered. Dean slammed his head against the trunk once more for good luck and threw him away from the car. He stumbled, then lumbered off to his car and drove off pretty damn quick. Dean was cursing the fucker under his breath when Evie snapped him back to the present.

 

“What did you do that for? I had it under control,” she said hotly, glaring daggers at Dean. He felt like they were sticking into his heart, but she’d gotten his back up now. Getting pissed at him for saving her bacon was not going to go down well.

 

“Oh yeah, sure seemed like it when he had you in a wrist lock pinned against the car,” Dean snapped.

 

Evie stared at him coldly for a few seconds, before sighing and walking to the trunk of the car. “You got blood on my car!” she whined. Dean’s anger had dissolved as quickly as it had arrived; her lips had turned down into a pout that had rendered him completely overwhelmed once again.

 

“Believe me, the blood is the least of this piece of junk’s problems,” Dean muttered, and she gasped. A mock offended look crept onto her face and Dean couldn’t help but smile at her. 

 

“Where did you learn to fight like that, anyway? That guy was huge, he shoulda taken you easy!” she wondered aloud. Dean decided to take the backhanded compliment and the opportunity it had given him.

 

“The same place you did, I’d wager.” With these words Dean pulled down the collar of his shirt so the flaming sun on his chest was visible in the cold night air. 

 

Her face was a round mask of shock. Hey eyes and mouth formed perfect Os. If it wasn’t such a beautiful sight Dean would have found it comical. Evie took a few moments to register what she’d just found out. Dean chose to wait it out; it was probably safer to wait for her to speak first if his little experience of her was anything to go by. 

 

She shook her head, a defeated look on her face. Her chestnut waves bounced and shone in the moonlight, distracting Dean momentarily from gauging her reaction. But then she said something which Dean would never have expected in a million years.

 

“Do you want to come for a beer at my motel? After you’ve fixed my car, of course.”  
How could he say no to that?


	3. Snap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds himself, miraculously, back at Evie's motel room. It seems too good to be true, so it must be...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Pretty gratuitous sex scene in this chapter!

Dean sat rigidly on one of the straight-backed chairs at the small table in the motel room. When Evie had told him to take a seat she’d motioned towards the bed, but Dean didn’t want to push his luck. He was already amazed enough as it was that he was sitting in her motel room. 

Fixing her car had taken a matter of minutes; Evie had remained relatively quiet throughout his work and Dean hoped it was to let him concentrate rather than because she had nothing to say to him. When he’d finished she’d told him to follow her in the Impala. Dean thought that was probably a good idea; he wasn’t sure her car would make it the whole way without another breakdown. It also gave him a few minutes of solitary panicking while he drove. She hadn’t said a word about the tattoo and Dean could ascertain nothing from her expressions the few times she’d met his eyes with hers. What if she was angry? What if she thought he was some kind of pervert for ogling her tattoo? Fucking hell, he was just as bad as that son of a bitch at the bar.

He managed to drag himself out of his pit of self-directed anger long enough to reassure himself that if she was angry and/or thought he was a pervert she definitely would not have invited him back to her motel room. A whole new wave of panic washed over him as he contemplated the idea that she might want to have sex with him. The sex part he wasn’t worried about; he was pretty sure he could do that in his sleep and satisfy both of them more than well enough. He was worried about what would happen afterwards. Dean wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away the morning after without a backwards glance as he so often did with the women he slept with. The idea of waking up next to Evie and watching the sunlight reflect on her chestnut waves with golden shimmers didn’t make him want to run a mile. It made him happy.

He was getting ahead of himself. She probably just wanted to talk to someone in the life; Dean knew only too well how lonely it could get hunting solo. If she just needed an ear to bend, Dean was happy to oblige. He’d be a gentleman and listen, offer words of advice. By the time they’d pulled into the parking lot of the motel Dean had managed to calm himself down, feeling a lot better after convincing himself she just wanted someone to talk to.

And now here he was, sitting at her table with a beer in his hand, trying as hard as he could to act normal. Normal meaning not like a creepy, vengeful hunter, which Dean had come to accept as his default setting in recent months. She’d gone into the bathroom to freshen up and change after setting the beer down in front of him on the table and telling him to make himself comfortable.

She reappeared from the harsh light of the bathroom into the softer glow of the bedside lamp, a tank top and sweats replacing the tight plaid shirt and jeans she’d been sporting at the bar. Her hair was all mussed up and she looked dog tired. She opened herself a beer and took a long sip before coming to sit down opposite Dean at the table. Dean had never seen something so beautiful. Evie stretched her neck and shoulders and settled back into the chair, her legs tucked up so her chin rested on her knees. 

“So, you’re a hunter.” 

It was more of a statement than a question, but Dean nodded anyway. She took another sip of beer and contemplated him with tired eyes before continuing.

“How’d you find yourself down that particular rabbit hole?”

Dean paused before answering. His first instinct was to tell her about his mom and Yellow Eyes and his dad and the pain, but luckily his brain intercepted that and reminded him that he didn’t want to scare her off just yet. That was a conversation he had no problem putting off.

“Family business, I guess. Mom’s folks were hunters, my dad too. Me and my little brother were raised in the life. Simple, really.” He knew it wasn’t really that simple, but the basics were all Evie needed to know. He’d only just met her, he didn’t want to drag her down into all his baggage. What kind of a douchebag would that make him?

“They all still hunting too?” she asked. So much for keeping her away from all his bullshit baggage.

“Ah, erm, no. My little brother, Sam, is out studying at Stanford. My mom and dad passed away,” he answered. He avoided her gaze; he’d had enough of the sympathetic head tilt with the pitying eyes from everybody else in his life and he did not want it from Evie. Ever.

She didn’t say anything for a while. Dean risked a quick glance at her face and saw a look of hesitancy sitting there. He wished he had lied, just said a simple ‘no’ and let it go. Why did he have to open his big mouth?

“Snap.”

Dean started. Evie was waiting for his reaction, a resigned look on her face. Before he knew what he was doing he’d reached a hand out to cover the one of hers that was resting on the table top.

“Shit, huh?” he offered, knowing ‘sorry’ would only make it worse. Luckily for him she laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that made Dean’s breath catch in his throat and his pants feel a little tighter around the crotch area. _Behave,_ he thought, _now is definitely not the time._

“A shapeshifter got the better of them. Should have just been a routine hunt. Dad was going to go on his own, he wanted Mom to stay home with me because he thought it was going to be an easy job. I told Mom to go; it’d be safer if they both went. Turns out I was pretty wrong about that,” she said quietly, a rueful smile pulling at the corners of her full lips. Dean wanted to kiss them, to take the sting out of the words that obviously still caused her pain. He settled for tracing reassuring circles into the back of her hand with his thumb.

He was marvelling at how silky her skin was beneath his calloused thumb when she grabbed his hand and flipped it over, laying it palm up on the table. She traced the calloused tips of his fingers with her significantly smaller ones, sending a thread of electricity racing up Dean’s arm and straight into the soul of him. 

“Hunter’s hands. All calloused,” she chuckled. She let go of his hand and held up her finger tips across the table for him to see. “See? I got ‘em too. Except mine are more from playing guitar than shooting a gun these days.”

Dean already missed the feeling of her skin on his. He didn’t want to risk taking her hand again though, so put both of his around his beer. He thought about what she’d said.  
“So you don’t hunt much anymore?”

She shook her head, her hair falling around her face in a way that made Dean want to push it back and kiss where it fell. Damn, this beer must be getting to him more than he’d thought.

“Not at all. I did the whole vengeance thing, tracked down the shifter that killed my parents, ganked it and then floated around for a while. I did the odd case but my heart wasn’t in it anymore. It reminded me too much of them. So I packed up my shit, grabbed my guitar and just...drove. That was almost three years ago, and you’re the first hunter I’ve met since. It’s been...refreshing. To let that guard down, I mean,” Evie said. “God, I must be boring the shit outta you. Let’s change the subject!”

Dean chuckled. “You aren’t boring me. Truth be told it’s nice to have some company. Been a bit quiet since my brother went back to college. Kinda nice to have some freedom though, I guess.”

She made a noise of agreement, smiling warmly at Dean. She’d finished her beer and motioned to Dean’s with her empty bottle.

“Bottoms up, Winchester. I got a whole stash of these bad boys that I don’t wanna take to Pipestone with me, so get drinking.”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to get me drunk,” Dean teased. He was feeling more relaxed now; the alcohol had definitely taken the edge off his nerves. Plus, for some reason, he found Evie easy to be around. There were no pretences, no expectations. He liked it.

“Well then, it’s a good job you do know better,” Evie replied with a wink. Dean’s cock twitched against his boxers. How the hell was she doing this to him from across the freaking room?

On her way back from the cooler Evie stopped to put some music on through a portable speaker system. She turned it down low so that it was just audible in the background and walked slowly in time to the beat back to the table. She put the beers down and shuffled her chair with her foot so it was closer to Dean’s. He could have touched her without fully extending his arm. Her proximity made him hyper aware of the warmth radiating off her body. He could smell her perfume; a sweet, dark scent that made him want to run his nose down the length of her slender throat. He was more than half hard now. This was definitely becoming dangerous territory.

Evie turned her body and rested her feet on the edge of Dean’s chair. His self restraint was being seriously tested and he wasn’t sure how much longer it was going to hold out. She had her arms crossed, the low tank top revealing the ample cleavage that sat between them. It was all Dean could do to shove the image of his tongue running along that crease out of his mind. He made himself focus on her face, not that it would do much to stop the ever worsening erection appearing in his jeans.

“So, Dean. Lame question I know, but I gotta ask. Is there a woman in your life?” She looked at him expectantly, one eyebrow slightly raised in question and a glint in her eye Dean hadn’t noticed before. Fuck, she was beautiful.

“Do you think I would have agreed to come back to your motel room if there was? What kind of guy do you take me for?”

Evie shrugged and tried to hide her smirk by biting her bottom lip. Dean couldn’t tell if she was just drunk or actually flirting with him. He prayed that it was the latter.

“How come?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t exactly lead a life that makes finding someone and settling down too easy, you know?” His mind flashed back to Lisa and Ben. The familiar tug of sadness that pulled at his heart whenever he thought of them was eased when he looked at Evie. “There was someone once, a while ago. Didn’t work out.”

Evie nodded, but thankfully didn’t ask any more questions. Dean was going to ask if there was a special someone in her life but he was pretty certain that wasn’t the case. 

A comfortable silence stretched the small distance between them, and with every second Dean could feel the atmosphere changing in the small room. The air seemed tangible, full of the electricity of the thinly veiled desire rolling off Dean in waves. He couldn’t take his eyes off the way her hair brushed against her breasts when she moved her head, or how her teeth grazed lazily across her full bottom lip when she was thinking. He’d never wanted somebody so badly in his life.

Underneath the silence Dean realised what song was playing on the stereo. Evie heard it too, and began singing along in a breathy, soft voice with a tipsy smile teetering on the edge of her lips.

_Fire and water must have made you their daughter  
You got what it takes to make a poor man’s heart break_

Her velvet voice caressing each word like a lover was the last straw for Dean. He reached across a tentative hand and ran his fingers down the length of her face, pushing a few stray tendrils of hair back as he did so. His hand came to rest against her cheek and he slowly stroked his thumb across her rose petal bottom lip. It was as velvet soft as her voice, and Dean let out a small gasp. 

Evie looked completely thrown and Dean was sure she was about to tell him to fuck off or kick his ass into next week. Shit, what have I done? She studied him carefully, her hazel eyes burning holes into Dean’s own green ones. Then, to Dean’s delight, she leaned her head into Dean’s hand and deliberately planted a small kiss in the palm of it. 

He took this as his cue and stood up, gently tugging at her hand so she rose out of her chair and stood in front of him. There was less than an inch between their bodies but it felt like a mile to Dean; he could never get close enough to the beautiful woman standing in front of him. Evie looked up at him and a shy smile appeared on her face. Dean couldn’t help but smile back. He tipped her chin up with his finger and slowly pressed his lips to hers. All the electricity in the air was crackling like static now, days worth of desire and lust pouring into this tiny point of contact between them. 

Evie sighed softly against Dean’s lips and snaked her arms around his neck to pull him closer to her face. Dean obliged only too happily, taking the opportunity to deepen the angle of the kiss and run his hands slowly along the curve of her waist. Evie opened her lips wider at the feel of Dean’s hands on her body, allowing him to trace the tip of her tongue with his own. She tasted so sweet; Dean knew he would never get tired of the taste of her on his tongue. 

He broke off the kiss to plant tiny kisses along the line of her jaw. Evie’s breathing quickened as Dean ran his tongue along the exposed length of her throat, stopping every few centimetres to press his lips against her skin. Her hands had moved from around his neck to trace the taut planes of his shoulders and every so often she would scratch lightly through the material. Dean licked the hollow of her collarbone and growled quietly as she scratched a little harder, a small moan escaping from her lips. 

Evie moved her hands to the front of Dean’s shoulders and pushed him backwards, forcing him back down onto the chair behind him. Her eyes were blazing and her cheeks were flushed as she lowered herself across Dean’s lap, her legs either side of Dean’s hips. They were face to face, and Evie never took her eyes off Dean’s. She kissed him again, more urgently than before. Dean’s hands came to rest on the violin curve of her waist as she ran her fingertips across his chest and stomach, sending sharp lines of pleasure straight down to his cock. He moaned against her lips and felt her answering smile as she continued to kiss him. Evie’s fingers traced the hem of his shirt, and Dean lifted his arms up so she could tug it over his head and toss it onto the floor. 

She leaned backwards and Dean let out a small whimper of annoyance. She laughed, that deep throaty chuckle that drove him crazy, and reached for the hem of her own shirt. Before this point Dean would have sworn that there was nothing more beautiful in this world than Evie in her tank top and sweats, but he realised he was wrong. As she removed her top Dean looked on in wonder at the expanse of tanned skin that was hiding underneath it. Dean pulled her back to him, kissing across the top of her breasts as he reached around to run his fingers lightly across her back to find the clasp of her bra. She gasped as he popped it open and tightened her hands in his hair, moving her hips slightly against Dean as he threw the bra aside.

Dean flexed his hips up against Evie and felt the delicious friction of his cock in his jeans as she pressed back down with her own hips, causing Dean’s cock to rub against her sweet spot through her sweats. Evie threw her head back with a gasp of pleasure, and Dean moved one hand to her hip to steady her whilst moving the other one up to caress one of her perfect breasts. He ran his hand over it softly before taking the nipple between his lips and teasing the tip of it with his tongue. Evie cried out and he felt it harden in his mouth. She continued grinding her hips down on Dean as he licked and teased her breasts, providing him some relief from the aching hardness he was feeling in his jeans.

Dean wrapped his hands around the back of her thighs, standing up and lifting her with him. Evie wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked them over to the bed, tracing wet kisses down his neck and across his chest. Dean moaned low in his throat and felt his cock strain even harder against its denim restraint. He lay her down on the bed and knelt at her feet, looking deep into her eyes as he pulled gently at the ankle of her sweats. She lifted her hips up off the bed, allowing him to peel her sweats and panties off in one smooth movement. She parted her legs so Dean could move between them, and he marvelled at the sight beneath him. Perfect breasts rising and falling with each heated breath she took, leading down to the soft fold of her stomach and silky smooth legs. Dean’s breath caught in his throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her hips in between the kisses he was planting along the bottom of her stomach. She answered with a wordless moan, flexing her hips up to meet Dean’s lips with an eagerness that made him want to take her right there and then. Instead he trailed the kisses lower and lower, pushing her thighs apart gently with his hands. She parted them gracefully, and Dean laid a kiss on the sweet spot between her legs. Evie squirmed in pleasure and Dean placed his hands on her hips to keep her still. He flicked his tongue around her clit a few times, teasing her.

Evie gasped and knotted her fingers into his hair. “Dean, please!”

Dean moaned at the sound of his name on her lips and stopped teasing. He pressed harder with his tongue, tracing circles round and round as Evie followed the motion with her hips. She pressed her hips up against his tongue, moaning low and loud. Dean moved a finger down to her entrance, pressing at the outside with the tiniest pressure. She moaned his name again and he pressed his finger into the wet warmth. She was so tight and wet, so ready for him. He continued moving his finger slowly in and out of her as he started unbuckling his belt with his other hand. He shimmied out of his jeans and kissed his way back up Evie’s body so their faces were level again, moving her further up the length of the bed.

Dean kissed her slowly, pouring everything he couldn’t say into this one action. Their bodies were flat against each other and Dean couldn’t help but grind gently against Evie. The delicious feeling of skin on skin caused her to moan into his mouth and run her nails lightly down his back. Dean couldn’t wait any longer; he had to have her now.

He broke off the kiss and looked into Evie’s eyes. “Are you sure you want...this?”

He’d been about to say ‘me’ instead of ‘this’, but he thought he might shatter into a thousand tiny pieces if she’d answered no to that question.

She grabbed his face and stroked a thumb across his cheekbone before kissing him. There was something in the kiss that Dean couldn’t quite place, but it felt good.  
“I’m sure.”

Dean smiled at her and began trailing more kisses all the way down her body until he could fumble for his jeans at the end of the bed. He pulled the familiar foil packet out of the pocket and ripped it open with his teeth. Evie stared at him with eyes on fire and Dean rolled the condom on quicker than he’d ever done in his life.

They were face to face again and Dean was planting kisses across Evie’s breasts as he positioned himself just above her entrance. Evie snaked a hand down between them and wrapped it around his cock, slowly moving her hand up and down a few times before placing the tip of it against her sweet spot. Dean growled in a fit of desire and pushed the tip into that sweet, tight warmth, making Evie call out his name like it was the most beautiful word in the world. Slowly, he eased the rest of himself into her, burying himself inside her as she pushed her hips up towards him to fill herself up with him. 

Dean savoured the blissful feeling of being buried to the hilt in this beautiful woman before he started to move. He kept the rhythm steady at first, allowing them both to revel in the sensation. Evie was moaning incoherently. Occasionally Dean heard his name in the mess of sounds she was making and every time he did he would kiss it out of her mouth and thrust into her a little harder. Dean felt her tighten around him and he moaned, snaking his hands behind her back so he could pull them both up into a sitting position.

Evie started to move her hips agonisingly slowly, easing Dean’s cock in and out of her as she traced a path with her tongue along his throat and shoulders. Dean flexed his hips up to meet Evie’s rhythm and tangled his hands in her beautiful hair, feeling her start to move him in and out of her at a faster pace. Dean was lost in the sensation, his whole body on fire from Evie’s touch. They fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle. Dean’s body knew exactly what Evie’s wanted, and vice versa. 

Dean felt Evie’s body start to stiffen around him and her nails were digging in hard enough to draw blood.  
“Fuck, Dean, I’m..I...” she moaned. Dean gasped as she pulled him as tight to her body as she possibly could, bucking her hips hard against him. She cried out his name and Dean moaned as he felt the ripples of her orgasm tighten her around his cock. 

The euphoric feeling of Evie’s climax was Dean’s tipping point and he poured himself into her after two more hard thrusts, calling out her name like a prayer. She held him close, laying soft kisses in his hair as he ran his hands softly over her back. Dean laid Evie back down on the bed and kissed her deeply. He wanted to speak, to verbalise the happiness he was feeling, but his words had disappeared. He settled for kissing her again before rolling to her side and pulling her close to him. She came willingly, resting her head above Dean’s tattoo, which she traced idly with lazy fingers. Dean felt something wet on his chest, and looked down to see tears falling from Evie’s beautiful eyes.

“Evie, baby! What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Dean asked urgently, searching her face for some kind of clue as to what was wrong.

She giggled and shook her head, then was silent for an agonising few seconds. Finally, she looked up at Dean and spoke.

“They’re happy tears, I promise. I just...Thank you, Dean,” she answered, her voice hushed. 

Dean didn’t answer. He kissed the tears from her face and pulled her closer, planting kisses in her hair until she fell asleep. 


	4. Got It Bad

Dean woke early. It took his tired eyes a few moments to recognise his surroundings and to remember the warm weight of Evie sleeping softly by his side. She was turned away from him, the sheets exposing the long curve of her olive-skinned back against the stark white of the linen. Dean shook his head, still barely believing that he was sharing a bed with this remarkable woman. He reached across the small distance between them and slowly ran a finger down the curved line of her spine. Evie wriggled and sighed, somehow sounding annoyed and perfectly content at the same time. Dean chuckled softly and did it again.

She stretched her arms above her head, which did delicious things to the muscles in her back, and rolled over to face Dean. She looked sleepy and pissed off, which Dean found sickeningly adorable. He grinned sheepishly.

“Don’t you know it’s really rude to wake a lady when she’s sleeping?” Evie said, glaring at him through sleep-filled eyes. Dean laughed.

“Don’t you know that it’s really rude to keep your guests waiting for breakfast?” Dean retorted, patting his stomach and smacking his lips.

Evie glared at him some more but there was no real anger behind her eyes. She yawned and stretched again before answering.  
“I’ve got nothing to eat in the motel. You want food, you’re gonna have to go out and get some. Though I think I’ve got a better idea.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You do, huh?”

Evie nodded and bit her lip to suppress the smirk that was threatening to appear there. She sat up and pushed Dean down so he was flat on his back. Before he knew what was happening she was sitting on top of him, one leg either side of his hips. Dean caught up to her mood in a nanosecond, softly flexing his hips to let her know he was more than up for this. She leant down and kissed him deeply, tracing his bottom lip with her tongue. Dean reached up and tangled his hands in her beautiful hair, anchoring her lips to his. He could kiss her forever and never get tired of it; she was the sweetest tasting thing that had ever touched Dean’s lips. 

Evie broke off the kiss and traced a path along Dean’s jaw with her tongue, causing Dean to moan softly into her hair. She grazed her teeth softly on his earlobe and Dean gasped, the feeling shooting straight down to his cock. Slowly she laid a trail of kisses across his chest and down his stomach, stopping when she reached the line of his hips to look up at him with a smile.  
“I thought we could work up a little appetite before breakfast,” she murmured. The heat in her eyes from the previous evening had returned; Dean was sure his own eyes echoed the sentiment.  
Evie bit her lip once more and moved her head lower. Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head a little and he was blissfully happy. _This is it_ , he thought. _I’ve found the perfect woman._

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Kinnock. If you think of anything else you think would be helpful you just give us a call on this number, alright?”

Dean and Evie walked back to the Impala from Mrs. Kinnock’s front door. She was the wife of the man found impaled by his own guitar that Dean had read about in the paper. She was also the fifth person they’d spoken to today about the death. Luckily, his wife had been able to shed some light on the situation and Dean was feeling slightly more positive about it.

When he’d offered to drive Evie to Pipestone he’d had her wreck of a car in mind; he was about 110% sure that there was no way it was going to make the trip in one piece. The thought of Evie having an accident because of that old banger made him feel sick to his stomach, so taking his car seemed like the much preferable option. She’d accepted immediately, surprising Dean with her enthusiasm for the idea. She’d seemed so reluctant to accept his help to fix the damn thing he’d been expecting her to put up a fight about his reluctance to let her drive the death trap. Then again, a lot had changed in the short space of time between this morning and last night.

After they’d finished working up an appetite they showered (together, which was yet another enjoyable experience that Dean would commit to memory forever), packed up the Impala and headed out for breakfast. Over the waffles and bacon and coffee they chatted, and it seemed more and more to Dean like the first date they had conveniently skipped. Evie told him how her mom had taught her the guitar when she was a kid, and how her favourite band was Free. Dean told her how his Dad had taught him to shoot a gun when he was a kid, and how he didn’t really listen to anything recorded after 1979. She’d laughed at that.

“You need some educatin’, boy.” She paused. “So what is there for you in Pipestone? I find it hard to believe you’re just driving me up there out of the goodness of your heart,” Evie asked. For some reason she wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. He didn’t like it.

“Why do you find that hard to believe? Maybe I’m just a decent guy doing you a favour,” Dean replied, feeling a little pissed off. Okay, so maybe there was a case in Pipestone he needed to check out, but he knew he would have driven Evie to the end of the earth and back if she’d asked him to. He wanted her to know that. He just wanted her to know that without him explicitly having to say it to her.

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, I get why you’d do something nice like this. The same reason you fixed my car I guess; you are a decent guy. I just have trouble understanding why someone would do something that nice for _me_ ,” Evie said, looking into Dean’s eye quickly before aiming her gaze at the table top again. 

Dean’s face softened as he realised her hang up wasn’t about him, but about herself. Looking across the table at the beautiful woman in front of him he couldn’t even begin to comprehend why she didn’t think herself worthy of the smallest acts of kindness. All of a sudden something Castiel had said came back to haunt him. _You don’t think you deserve to be saved._

The thought unsettled him. It was okay for him to feel like that, but he couldn’t let Evie go one more day thinking that she wasn’t worthy of the things Dean had done for her. He had to tell her. He reached across the table and took both of her hands in his, forcing her to look him in the eye.

“Evie, listen to me. Don’t you ever, _ever_ , think that you aren’t worthy of my time. Or anybody else’s, for that matter.” Dean paused, suddenly feeling shy. He took a deep breath before he continued; he couldn’t believe he was saying these things out loud. This was the kind of crap Sam came out with. “You are wonderful, and you deserve the world.”

Evie didn’t say anything for a while, but she squeezed Dean’s hands softly every so often. She was trying to hide a smile, which made Dean grin like an idiot. He decided to break the silence.

“As it happens, it looks like there might be a case for me to check out up in Pipestone. I would have driven you there if there was a case in Alaska that had my name all over it, though. Just so you know,” Dean said, smiling sheepishly.

Evie giggled; Dean revelled in the sound. She paused a beat and then said something else that Dean was definitely not expecting.

“Can I come on the case with you? I think it would be good for me. I mean, I understand if you don’t want me to. You can just drop me at a motel near the bar I’m playing at and then get –“

Dean silenced her by placing a finger over the lips that he had been kissing little over an hour before. Evie stopped talking and waited for his response.

“It would be a pleasure to have you working with me, Miss Stone,” Dean replied, smiling but meaning every word. She beamed back at him. “Do you still have all your fake IDs and crap?”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As it turned out, she did. Evie tucked her badge back inside her jacket pocket, leaned against the Impala and turned to Dean.

“So you think we should head to the cemetery and burn the bones now or should we wait until it’s dark?”

Mrs. Kinnock had revealed that her husband had replaced the lead guitarist of a pretty successful band; they’d just signed a record deal and had been selling out the local bars for the last six months. Seven months ago, however, the original guitarist had been kicked out of the band for his excessive drinking and partying and ended up killing himself in a drink-fuelled fit of despair. It sounded to Dean like the original guitarist had decided some vengeance was due on the asshole that had taken his place and was pretty sure burning his bones should nip this whole thing in the bud.

Dean thought about what Evie was asking. If they went and dug up his grave now there was a much greater risk of getting caught, but if they waited until it got dark he’d miss Evie’s gig. Plus he was a little wary of Evie throwing herself back into the hunting game; she seemed alright but he didn’t want her to overdo it on her first case back. Seeing a dead body again might not be easy for her.

“I’ll head over and do it now. I’ll drop you off at the motel on the way so you can get ready for your gig then swing by to pick you up when I’m done,” Dean decided. There was no way he was missing Evie singing tonight. 

She nodded and pulled the lapel of Dean’s suit so he was standing in front of her. She tugged at it again, causing Dean to pin her up against the Impala. Evie slid her arms inside his suit jacket and idly traced her hands along his back and shoulders. Dean rested his hands on her hips. She looked up at him for a second before speaking.

“I just wanted to say that last night and today have been kinda awesome. You’re not like other hunters. And believe me, I don’t normally go in for all this sappy heart on your sleeve crap. Especially after one night. But I really like spending time with you, even if that means chasing monsters,” she added, chuckling at the last sentence.

Dean wasn’t expecting Evie to say that, but he was overjoyed that she had. After Evie had fallen asleep last night Dean had stayed awake thinking about what would happen in the morning. He was convinced she’d want to go their separate ways after a mutually enjoyable evening together. The thought nearly broke him; he couldn’t stand the idea of watching Evie walk away from him without a backwards glance. Of course, if that was what she had wanted he would have let her go without a word. In the end he had to force his mind to think about other things; he’d never felt things like this about a woman before and it was confusing the fuck out of him. Especially after one fucking night together, Jesus.

“Same goes, Stone. You ain’t such bad company,” Dean teased. Evie slapped him on the back playfully. He reached up and smoothed her hair back from her face, planting a soft kiss on her lips. “I’m glad you like spending time with me, cos I’m planning on sticking around for a little while longer.”

They drove back to the motel in comfortable silence, punctuated only by Evie singing along softly to the songs on the radio. Dean was surprised how much more at ease he felt with her in the car with him; months of driving alone had made the idea of a passenger irritating. Dean pulled up in the parking lot of the motel and Evie leant over to kiss him before she got out of the car like it was the most natural thing in the world. It had been intended to be a simple peck on the lips, but Dean found himself curling a hand around the back of her neck and deepening the kiss. Evie responded with a soft sigh, laying a hand on Dean’s thigh and squeezing softly. Dean trailed a hand down the length of Evie’s throat and felt her shudder, feeling his cock start to stiffen slightly at the same time. He groaned and reluctantly broke off the kiss.

“You’ll be the death of me, woman. Now get out of my car, I got me some bones to burn.”

Evie laughed and winked at him, closing the door and leaning in through the window. “You’d be a lucky man if I was the reason you got kicked off this mortal coil.” 

_I’m already a lucky man_ , Dean thought as he pulled off the parking lot and turned right to head to the cemetery. It was across town, so Dean put his foot down as much as he could. When he arrived at the cemetery it was, luckily, completely deserted. He couldn’t be sure how long this would last though, and so got to work finding the grave and started to dig furiously.

As he dug he thought about the last 24 hours. He was having trouble believing his luck. The girl of his dreams had fallen into his lap and, from what Dean could tell, she was pretty keen on him too. She came from a hunter family so he’d never have to have that awkward conversation. She understood what it was like to live life on the road, moving from town to town at the drop of a hat. She was beautiful, she was smart and she was funny. _Why the hell was she interested in Dean?_

He drove the shovel into the dirt with added force and shook that thought out of his mind; he wasn’t going to question it. If it turned out to be too good to be true at some point then so be it, but until then he was going to enjoy every moment of being with Evie. He’d enjoyed having her on the case today, in fact they’d turned out to be a pretty good team. Evie had been quite the hard-ass, which made Dean all the more crazy about her. He’d got it bad, and he didn’t care.

He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t realised how close he was to hitting the coffin. He dug solidly for a few more minutes, his calloused hands gripped tight around the shovel and he rained down blow after blow on the soft ground. A few minutes more and he finally heard the satisfying clang of metal against wood.

As he watched the decomposed body burn all he could think about was getting back to Evie. He didn’t want her to be late for her gig, and as much as it pained him to admit it he already disliked being away from her. The earth seemed off kilter when he wasn’t around her, like it was tilted off its axis. He felt like he was tuned in between stations on a radio; the noisy static only melted into music when Evie was there. Fucking hell, he’d got it bad. 

He’d made a messy job of filling the grave back up in his haste to get back to the motel but he didn’t much care. The drive back seemed to drag on forever; every traffic light he approached turned red before he could get across and there seemed to be more shitty drivers on the roads that evening than normal. If he didn’t know better Dean would have sworn that someone was doing it on purpose just to piss him off. By the time he arrived back at the motel Dean was almost in a bad mood, but the prospect of Evie waiting for him just beyond one of those doors made it dissipate instantly. His shoulders already felt less tense and the scowl of annoyance on his face had melted into one of pure relief. He practically ran across the parking lot and knocked on the door before entering.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called out, expecting Evie to tell him to stop being such a jackass. Instead he was greeted with stony silence. He cast his eyes around the dreary room and his heart sank into the soles of his shoes. 

The small table had been overturned, leaving two bottles of beer spilling their contents out onto the floor. The bed was a mess; the sheets were in a tangled knot in the middle of the double mattress. Evie’s guitar was lying face down on the floor. Evie was nowhere to be seen.

A low gravelly voice chuckled from somewhere behind him. Dean whipped out his gun and whirled around to face whoever it was.

“Hello, Dean. You could have at least tidied up a bit before I got here, it’s a right state.” The strong English accent made Dean’s whole body tense up in fury. 

_Crowley_.  



End file.
